Once Upon a Time A Baby Was Born
by Auna
Summary: Futurefic Series #12: An old man continues telling stories


Title: Once Upon A Time... A Baby Was Born  
>Author: Auna<br>Rating: G  
>Disclaimer: Farscape isn't mine. I only lay claim to a few original characters. I am not making any money from anything I write... anything. (Darn it.)<p>

Betas: ScaperRed and shipsister. Thank you! I hated that you BOTH told me more detail, but I bit the bullet and threw some more in. Hope it was enough.

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Sighing, the old man lowered himself into his cushioned chair and looked at the flames dancing in the fireplace. A lock of white hair fell into his eyes and he pushed it away in frustration. "I need a haircut," he grumbled.

"You sound like Oscar the Grouch," his wife observed from her nearby chair. "You need a cold drink and a long rest tonight." She snipped at her yarn with a pair of scissors and set aside her knitting, as she began to get up from her chair.

He watched her as she crossed to the meal room and opened the refrigerator. Her silvery white hair was long and loose, curling at the ends and framing her face. She'd gained a few pounds since they'd first married, but truthfully, he liked her better now. Her deep green eyes were still young, perpetually smiling and they still looked at him in adoration.

She returned to him, handing him a cool bottle of Fellup Nectar and kissing him softly before turning to her chair.

"I'm sorry," he said contritely and watched as she sat back down with a smile on her face, already forgiving him for being difficult. "I could have done that myself."

She picked up her knitting and started on the sweater once again, letting the matter drop. "So," she started without meeting his gaze. "When are you going to tell the kids that they aren't just fantasy stories that you made up?"

He shrugged, swallowing a mouthful of the drink she'd just given him. "If I spin it out long enough, they'll eventually figure it out. The light will probably click when they enter the story."

"You should be writing all this down, David," she chastised, "before it is totally forgotten."

"I know," he agreed on a sigh, swallowing again. He was starting to feel a little better. She always seemed to know what he needed. "But then that leaves evidence behind."

"You're paranoid."

"You weren't there. You would be paranoid too."

"I suppose." She paused for a moment, considering her next question. At last she softly asked, "Are you going to tell them the part when Scorpius catches up to Moya?"

The old man began to rub his leg, where the scar ran angry and red from his hip to his knee. It was a reflex, and he didn't even realize he'd done it until he looked up to see his beautiful wife searching his face in concern, upset that she'd brought back the memories.

He downed half his bottle before setting it on the floor beside his chair. "Maybe I'll tell D'Argo. I don't know if Aeryn can handle that yet."

She nodded in agreement, the sadness lingering in her eyes. "Tell me about the birth of the baby," she implored in an obvious attempt to get his mind off the nightmare that still haunted him.

David smiled. "Which baby?" he asked. "There were several."

"Aeryn's baby," she clarified.

"You've heard that one fourteen times already."

"Thirty," she corrected. "But I love the way you tell it," she said, sounding remarkably similar to her granddaughter. "And I know you aren't going to tell it to the kids the same way you tell it to me."

He chuckled softly. "Yeah. I do tell it to you best. Maybe YOU should write these down." A look crossed her face that he couldn't quite read, and nervousness started to snake up his spine. "That was a joke, Hemmy. You haven't written anything down, have you?"

"No, David. I promised you."

He breathed a little easier and sat back in his chair, enjoying the flames before him, and the sound of his wife's needles clicking beside him. Closing his eyes, he let his mind drift back, let the years drop away and slowly, he began to feel the slight sway of Moya beneath his feet.

He let his mind take in everything, for in telling Hemmy the story, he didn't need to hold anything back. She already knew all his gruesome, horrible secrets, and she still loved him. One hundred and fifty years together, and she still looked at him with adoration. He knew he didn't deserve it, but he was an addict where she was concerned, and he lacked the self restraint and discipline to push her away.

He should have. She deserved better.

Silently, she waited for him to begin, putting her needles down to let him totally engross himself in the moment.

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Rain. Hard, torrential rain pounded down on them, soaking everyone instantly. A loud blast of thunder exploded overhead and everyone at the campsite jumped, instinctively ducking for cover. Then they laughed at themselves as they picked their stomachs off the ground and uselessly tried to brush themselves off.

"I thought the advertisement said sunny skies," Chiana hollered over the downpour.

"It did," John agreed. "I quote, 'Homey cabins, swimming, great fishing, sunny skies.' Guess no one ever told them about Truth in Advertisement."

"There ARE no cabins," D'Argo repeated for the tenth time. Water was dripping in rivulets from his tenkas, splashing onto an already sopping Chiana. "We have searched this entire area."

Another bolt of lightening streaked across the sky and Aeric counted to two-Mississippi before the thunder pounded through his body, exploding through his ears. He couldn't hear anything anymore, and looked around at the bedraggled group, trying to read their lips as the conversation continued.

"The guy at the reservation place gave me THESE coordinates," Tean insisted.

"They said No Refunds in the communications," Yetia reminded everyone as she tried to ring out her long, yellow hair. It was a useless task with rain continuing to pour, and she finally threw it behind her in disgust. Resigning herself to the inevitable, she closed her velvet purple eyes and turned her face upward, enjoying the feel of the water cascading over her.

"Their refund policy is about to change," Sethya assured. "Give me two hundred microts with them."

Brennik, sitting cuddled in Sethya's arms, rolled her eyes. Aeryn sat between John's legs, leaning against him. Chiana and D'Argo sat together nearby, arms wrapped around each other, and Tean and Yetia sat near each other to Aeric's right. Laighn had gone back to Moya for some tents in the transport pod, and had not returned yet.

No one really minded the rain. The air was slightly muggy, the rain warm on their skin as it landed, and the torrential anger of the storm seemed to fit them somehow. It had been three weekens since the wedding, the Great Flower Incident barely behind them when Pilot had politely asked them all to take a small vacation. Realizing how badly he needed his rest time, if he were to make a request like that, they all agreed.

Only Noranti stayed behind, and she swore to stay in the lower tiers, away from the den.

Another bolt of lightening illuminated the sky, showing a grimace on Aeryn's face that scared the dren out of everyone there. Her gasp was swallowed by the thunder, but John had felt it and turned her in his arms so he could see her face.

"Aeryn, what is it?"

"My water just broke."

He raised an eyebrow doubtfully, trying not to say what would surely get him in trouble. "Um, honey, how can you tell? You're not due for another month."

She tried to punch him, but the angle was too awkward from between his legs, so she swore at him instead. "I think I can tell when water gushes out of me, you frelling drannit! I've done this twice already; I _know_what breaking water feels like!"

"You're right, you're right," he soothed, trying to calm her down. "I'm sorry."

Yetia began to whimper, thinking of the implications of a woman birthing in these conditions, and Tean patted her arm comfortingly. Brennik was out of Sethya's arms and at her parent's side in an instant, looking helpless but standing by in case called upon. Aeric sat on the muddy ground nearby, watching and waiting nervously.

"Are you having any contractions yet?" John asked reasonably.

She stilled for a moment, looking inward and considering. "I'm not sure." John's jaw clamped shut, swallowing the remark that he desperately wanted to throw at her. Now was not the time. But later, his eyes said, she would not live this down. "I've had bad gas all day," she continued. "They might have been contractions."

"How far apart were the gas cramps?" he asked. Everyone was watching intently, ignored by John and Aeryn.

"Every arn or so," she calculated. "We should have plenty of time until Laighn gets back with the transport pod." There was a collective sigh of relief throughout the group, unheard over another blast of thunder.

An arn later, as John held Aeryn in his arms, helping her to breathe through her pain, the relief was long dissipated. The contractions were now sixty microts apart, and by the look on Aeryn's face, they were intensive. Everyone had shed their coats and D'Argo, Brennik and Yetia were hovered over John and Aeryn, holding the coats in a makeshift tent, and affording a modicum of privacy.

Tean, Aeric and Sethya were pacing nearby, casting nervous glances alternately to the maternity ward and to the sky, searching for some sign that the storm was lessening. They had given up on Laighn returning with the desperately needed transportation until the storm abated. Conditions were impossible to fly through. The communicators weren't functioning and the group was temporarily stranded.

Chiana, midwife for the occasion, was knelt between Aeryn's feet, which were sticking out of the end of the small shelter. She murmured soothing, coaxing words that were nearly inaudible over the thunder as everyone waited through contraction after contraction.

Aeric, frustrated, scared, and tired of feeling useless, stepped next to Yetia and gently nudged her out of the way, making sure to grab the coats in the appropriate places to maintain the structure of the tent. At least he could do _something_to help his mother. Yetia didn't need too much convincing; she'd been at her post for quite a while. Rubbing her arms, she joined the two brothers in their vigil.

"I see the crown of the head!" Chiana announced joyfully. "Drad Aeryn! On this next contraction, give it all you got!" Aeric could hear his mother straining, a sob breaking through, and his father cheering her on. "You did it, Aeryn!" Chiana laughed. "I see the baby's head! Now hold on for a microt so I can wipe its face."

Chiana had been given some clean, dry, t-shirts from John's luggage earlier, which she used now. She worked quickly, and Aeric could see the movements of her arms, and her body swaying with the effort.

"Ok, Aeryn. One last, really big push!"

"You can do this, Aeryn!" John coaxed. "You've done wonderful. Just a little bit longer. Push hard and it will all be over."

Aeryn strained, and Aeric waited to hear the triumphant shout from Chiana and John. It didn't come. Aeryn strained again, and again.

"What the frell is wrong!" Aeryn yelled.

"Sethya!" Chiana called, trying to keep her voice calm.

"What the frell is wrong!" Aeryn hollered; panic beginning to rise in her voice. "What is wrong with my baby?"

"Nothing is wrong," John soothed. "That baby is so big, that it's caught under your pelvis..." While he talked to Aeryn soothingly, calming her, Sethya had arrived and had been given instructions. He ducked under the coat as John continued. "We're going to help you," he assured. "On the next contraction, push with everything you have.

Aeric heard his mother breathe a few times, calming breaths, then hurriedly suck in a lungful of air. She started to strain, but a shriek unlike anything he'd heard before tore through the camp, drowning out the thunder overhead and ripping out his soul. What had those bastards done to his mother?

A small cry heralded the new arrival, and everyone began to cry in happiness. "Mom?" Aeric asked, terrified that they'd killed her. "Mom, are you all right?"

She was gasping for air, and the only visible part of her body, her feet, were shaking slightly. "Yes, Aeric. I'll be all right. They had to help push the baby under my pelvic bone, and it hurt."

He swallowed a few times, trying unsuccessfully to hold back his tears of relief. Chiana was being nurse, checking the baby for any visible ailments and wiping it down with another of John's shirts. "It's a boy!" she announced.

D'Argo was congratulating them, Sethya had vacated his spot from under the coats and was standing beside Brennik, Tean and Yetia were hovering nearby, smiling as if it had been their own child born.

Chiana laid the tiny infant on Aeryn's belly, careful not to pull too hard on the umbilical cord. John, speechless, reached out and gently caressed the tiny head, holding his wife and newborn at the same time. He kissed her cheek softly, tasting the tears slowly running down her face. In her eyes was a mixture of awe and relief. She reached out a trembling hand and caressed their baby's back.

"Hello," she whispered softly. "We've been waiting for you."

It was then that the transport pod became visible, weaving from the turbulent atmosphere. It was nearly struck by lightening twice as it descended, but no one had been happier to see the pod door open and Laighn walk out, the bearer of their salvation. "I came back as soon as I could," he started apologetically, and then saw the situation. "FRELL!"

No one asked questions, merely helped John carry Aeryn and their baby, still attached to Aeryn by the umbilical cord, into the dry ship.

This would be a vacation that none of them would ever forget.

xxxxxxx

The old man looked over to his wife, to see tears brimming at the edges of her eyes as she stared into the fire. She was always moved by the telling of that story. Maybe she felt more connected to Aeryn through the shared experiences of birthing a child in the wilderness. Maybe she was just a hopeless romantic.

Whatever the reasons, she graced him with a watery smile and picked up her knitting again. "Thank you," she said softly.

He nodded and closed his eyes, letting himself drift asleep to stop the memories. If he didn't cut them off now, he'd be haunted for days. Understanding, Hemmy knitted quietly beside him, letting him sleep, letting him have his momentary peace. He deserved it. She couldn't have done better than him for a husband, not if she'd looked for a thousand years. She thanked God every day that he had survived long enough to find his way to Earth, to her.

She wondered, briefly, if his enemies were still alive, still looking for him. He said they were. Only time would tell.


End file.
